'Good morning, I'm your new neighbor. I've bought that big old wreck next door. Tea?'
One of the worst sicknesses human beings have is thinking they are right. Seldom had he ever encountered anyone who exemplified this so well. But there was a kink in it. This person was a humble man. He couldn't figure it. Did he really believe this? The signs of humility in the other man were obvious. Maybe his thoughts were limited. Whose? His or the other's? After all why was concerned with the matter at all? Was there a matter at all except for the fact that he was thinking? His bed was calling him. But he could not bring himself from his chair. So what was it all about? He castigated himself for the sudden pragmatism. It was chauvinism. It was possible that his penchant for sudden moments of reaction to an idea was to blame for the whole thing. After all who knew about this except him? Who knew of these ruminations? The Deity? Only that was possible. But he doubted it seriously. It was a loathsome thought. He thought absurdly that he could ask the humble man about it. He might get comfort from it though. Certainly the other wouldn't object. The tangle of thoughts would defeat the purpose. Entirely. And he would make a complete fool of himself. Utter, you couldn't go much further. He realized he was viewing he was viewing himself through his own eyes and certainly not the other's. The dark was setting in. He went to the window and listened to the rain outside, it's larger sound of the deafening hush and its smaller sounds on the roof and outside on the leaves. He saw a man with an old raincoat on walking down one of the paths laid down between the trees. He wondered how the man had got in and why he chose to walk here but he did not react and shrugged with some sense of happiness and went to bed.
In the morning there was a knock on the door. He didn't recognize him at first. He wore a tweed jacket and had a jaunty old beret on his head. He held up a bag and smiled showing his teeth and said, 'Good morning, I'm your new neighbor. I've bought that big old wreck next door. Tea?'